


Flames

by ShadowLink720



Series: Planeswarden Travellers [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mentions of Character Death, lots of fire. and people burning, possible endgame spoilers too, sort of a crossover, spoilers for ophilia's chapter 4, vague spoilers for alfyn's chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowLink720/pseuds/ShadowLink720
Summary: There exist a near countless number of worlds that exist in parallel. They all mostly share similarities, but some worlds differ more than others. Sometimes, one difference can bring the world in question to an untimely end.There is one string of worlds, however, that has gained knowledge of this. Many who have lost their worlds have bound together in order to save others from their fates. When the task proves too great, they can at least grant any survivors a new home.Ophilia is told there is a complication she needs to address before she can complete the Kindling properly.





	Flames

A strange sense of dread has been growing in the pit of Ophilia’s stomach these past few days.

She can’t pinpoint what it is, or what’s causing it. Though she has decided to assume it might be to do with what she had encountered while in Saintsbridge; not only having to fight a direwolf to recover a brooch for a child, but helping the mother of another child calm down while an apothecary (at least, he seemed like one) ran into the woods after some kind of bandit who had kidnapped them. Ophilia had followed once she trusted she could leave the mother, but she had been too late to help - the apothecary had already began to return with the child in tow. She had tried to talk to him, but he was so focused on his work that he didn’t seem to hear. And even after he was done, he left very suddenly. Perhaps he was simply needed elsewhere?

Regardless, what’s done is done, and she mustn’t get distracted. Ophilia still has to complete the Kindling, which is exactly why she has travelled to Goldshore.

The Coastlands air tastes of salt, which is not something she is familiar with, but the unfamiliar is something she has been getting better at adapting to on her travels.

It is only once Ophilia catches sight of the inn that she realises just how tired she is from her travels. Not only that, but the sun dips low as well.

Perhaps a small rest is in order. She needs her energy for the rite anyway.

 

* * *

 

Her room now booked for the coming night, Ophilia takes a weary sip of her tea as she readies herself for the Kindling rite tomorrow. Her eyes wander over to the holy ember in question.

She realises that the strange feeling has not dissipated. Her worries of the situation at home have not subsided.

… She was worried about home? Was _that_ the cause of this feeling?

“Hello, Miss Ophilia!”

The voice tears into her thoughts, causing her to jump.

“My apologies, ‘twas not my intention to startle you.” The voice belongs to none other than Mattias, a merchant from the Leoniel Consortium.

“No, forgive me, I was the one lost in my thoughts.” Why does her chest feel so tight? Why can she just about hear her heart in her ears?

Mattias doesn’t seem to notice anything off about her. That’s good.

Ophilia exhales, trying to calm whatever nerves are affecting her, and offers the merchant a seat by her, which he accepts.

They begin to talk of things, mainly about the pilgrimage; the sort of people she has met along the way, her encounter with the direwolf Hróðvitnir in Saintsbridge, and the like.

After a while, Mattias speaks up again. “Apologies, but-- may I see the lanthorn?”

An… odd request, but one she grants regardless. Silence drapes over them as Mattias inspects the flame closely (likely closer than he should).

“Please be careful with it.”

Mattias either ignored her or didn’t hear, because he continues.

Eventually, he carefully places the lanthorn back down.

Why is he making such a worried expression?

“... Is something the matter, Mr. Mattias?” Mattias jolts at Ophilia’s voice as if he had forgotten she were present. Also odd.

“Strange... Have you heard news about the Archbishop’s passing, by any chance?”

The coming silence seems to strangle her.

“... I’m sorry, could you... repeat that?”

Mattias frowns, and his tone is softer, less concerned and more empathetic. “Ah. So you have not… I am-... words cannot fully convey the depths of how awful it is to be the one to tell you, but… The Archbishop has passed away.”

Another silence. “No, that can’t…” Her voice is quiet, and trails off quickly. Suddenly, she recalls Josef’s words.

Everything seems to collapse around Ophilia.

“... He was taken from us too soon. I am so sorry.” Once Mattias speaks again, Ophilia is able to pick most of it all back up.

Her shoulders feel heavy with the weight.

“He… The Archbishop told me that he suspected he would die soon, but I thought...” She trails off again, and another choking silence takes the place of any sound. “... I have to complete the Kindling first thing tomorrow, and then I shall waste no time travelling back to Flamesgrace.”

Mattias nods, pensive. “You are determined, Gods be grateful of that… but-- Miss Ophilia, there is something else I should tell you.”

Ophilia gives a questioning look, and he gestures to the lanthorn as he continues. “The flame is dull. It might not properly kindle the fire in this state. ‘Twould seem to me it needs to be purified before we can safely assure the completion of the rite.”

This… is not something Ophilia remembers hearing about. Perhaps, due to the circumstance, they just didn’t have enough time to explain that to her.

Seems oddly important to neglect even a brief mention, though.

Mattias continues. “That was partially why I asked you if you knew about the Archbishop.”

Ophilia remembers what the Bishop Bartolo had mentioned in Saintsbridge - about the flame reflecting the heart of the one on the pilgrimage.

Was it her worry? This horrible sense of foreboding that refuses to leave?

… Was this her fault?

Mattias takes notice of Ophilia’s silence, and gently rests a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “You needn’t worry. I believe I know how to purify the flame, and it shouldn’t take us _too_ long, all things considered.”

Ophilia’s gaze snaps back to look at him properly, but before the query can leave her lips, he elaborates. “As a merchant, especially of the Leoniel Consortium, you hear a lot of things about rites of the church.”

… With that question answered, she decides to ask another. “So what is it we have to do?”

Mattias smiles to reassure her. “We need to go somewhere specific: a shrine located near the village of Whispermill, in the Flatlands. We can take a boat from here, and then some horses once we reach land again, so it won’t take us as long as opposed to making the journey entirely on foot.”

“… You are sure of this?”

Mattias nods.

“And you are certain that I cannot conduct the rite as the flame is now?”

“Not properly, no. The flame would be too weak to last until the next Kindling.”

Ophilia spends a moment to contemplate it all.

Mattias sits up rather suddenly. “I will be leaving for the Flatlands tomorrow, myself... Please do consider my offer to help escort you there.” A pause as he turns to leave. “‘Til then, I bid you goodnight, Miss Ophilia.”

Ophilia is left alone to her thoughts for a while, before she too retires for the night.

 

Though, as she feared, the night was long and restless with her racing thoughts.

In the end, Ophilia decides to travel to the Flatlands with Mattias.

 

* * *

 

Whispermill was small. Very small, in fact. Smaller than Ophilia had been expecting.  
(Then again, most of the settlements Ophilia has been to have been rather sizeable, especially by comparison).

The air is thick, but there is no pall, nor miasma to be found. She can feel eyes on her, boring into her very skull.

Mattias, however, seems oblivious.

Any and every villager they make their way past gives such an odd expression. Something akin to surprise.

The dread, she finds, has never waned throughout her journey. It almost feels stronger, in fact.

Suddenly, they stop. Before she can ask why, Mattias turns to her. “I believe you should rest, Miss Ophilia. I shall take care of the preparations for you, and I can let you know when they are complete.”

Ophilia’s brow furrows. “Whatever do you mean, Mattias? I am still well rested, I can help with the preparations.”

Mattias would not sway, however. Continuously insisting that she needs her energy for the rite.

Eventually, she concedes.

 

Ophilia does not dream as she rests, yet she finds herself in a cold sweat once she is awoken by Mattias. What is it about this place that has her so anxious?

Mattias, once again, does not seem to notice. “We are ready for the rite, Miss Ophilia. Are you?”

“I… think so. All I have to do is channel my desire to see the flame purified, yes?”

“That indeed. Though, because such a feat is rather... taxing on one’s body, the villagers have volunteered to assist in sharing the burden.”

Ophilia is about to protest, but alas, Mattias ushers her out of the inn and leads her with haste to the shrine he had mentioned before.

It looks abandoned. Undisturbed and left to decay for centuries.

If it was truly so vital for a ritual as important as purification, why does it lie in ruins?

Perhaps it was simply never needed until now. Perhaps she is the first in centuries to be unfit for the Kindling.

Was going in Lianna’s place a mistake?

Mattias interrupts her thoughts by requesting the lanthorn be placed on the altar.

After some final adjustments, Ophilia stills herself. She closes her eyes, and begins the rite.

Mattias seems to have been correct in letting her rest. Pain surges through her body. It is dull, at least for now, but it seems to be growing as time goes on.

 

She needs to focus on the rite, but… there is a small voice, hidden deep in the back of her mind.

 

_‘The flame has to be purified because of me. Please find some way to forgive me, Archbishop.’_

 

_Focus. Do not let your thoughts wander._

 

_‘… I miss you.’_

 

_His body is gone, but he remains in our hearts and our memories. Remember that._

 

_‘I had hoped I could see you again, after this was all over.’_

 

_Stop it. Please._

 

_‘I want to see you again.’_

 

Everything is quiet.

But suddenly, it’s not, as the rest of the world reforms around her. A wave of sheer energy pulses from the lanthorn, completely overwhelming Ophilia for a few moments.

What awaits her when her eyes open turns her blood to ice.

 

The flame is a deep purple.

She finds herself unable to move. Unable to speak.

Before she can process anything, she is engulfed in the fire.

It burns her skin.

It feels like it burns within her veins, within her lungs, within her **heart**.

She buckles over. A silent prayer sent to whatever deity might be listening, begging for it to stop.

Over her cries and the roaring fire, she hears something.

The dark flames retract from her body as though they were a living entity, but the pain continues.

Ophilia comes back to her senses enough to see Mattias.

He’s holding the lanthorn.

Why is he holding the lanthorn.

She turns to see the condition of the villagers.

They lie on the cold stone ground. They seem motionless.

She can nary manage a whisper, and it is mostly drowned out in coughs.

“... What...”

Mattias brings a finger to her lips, quieting her. “I must thank you, Ophilia. You have helped me so much.”

More coughing. It feels like the smoke is caught in her lungs.

Mattias continues. “With your help, Galdera’s power can become my own.”

The name alone is enough for Ophilia to freeze.

Galdera. The Fallen.

Wide, unfocused eyes bore into Mattias’.

He simply smiles back.

It looks so innocent. But there’s something in his eyes.

Something twisted. Something inhuman.

A cursed, unholy presence.

“Oh, but you needn’t worry. I’ll let you witness the extent of Galdera’s power before you join us.”

Ophilia feels the pit in her stomach consume her entirely.

She can hardly move from her shaking. She cannot speak from her choking.

Mattias laughs. A sickening, twisted, inhuman laugh.

The accurst flame erupts from the lanthorn, seeking to engulf anything and everything.

Perhaps it is simply the sheer heat of the fire, but… It looks as though Mattias’ very body seems to be… melting. Falling apart.

Ophilia’s vision is blurring, and she can feel the heat grow as it continues to approach her. The flames lap at her skin, intent on burning even any ash that would remain.

Her vision continues to blur. Every desperate breath begins to hurt more than the last.

 

There are voices.

They don’t belong to Mattias.

They seem to belong to two figures standing between Ophilia and faltering form of Mattias.

When did they get there?

And… By the Flame, what has Mattias become? She cannot see clearly, but the body is barely human anymore.

Above the stench of ash and smoke and death… Ophilia swears she can faintly smell flowers.

She can’t make out what the newcomers are saying. Something about getting out?

Her vision goes dark completely.

 

* * *

 

Ophilia awakens in a room unfamiliar to her.

… A room? Last she remembers she was… in that grotto in the Flatlands.

Everything is so hazy.

Though she can smell flowers.

“Ah, thank goodness you’re awake!”

Ophilia jumps at the noise, and she realises just how close the woman owning the voice is.

The movement sends a jolt of pain through her body. And she breathes in sharply in reaction.

“Try not to move too much, you’re still recovering.” Another voice. This one sounds familiar, though.

A little behind the owner of the first voice is another woman. But this one she recognises.

It’s the dancer Ophilia had helped in Sunshade.

“Pr… imrose…?” Ophilia’s voice is weak, and sore.

“Don’t talk too much either.” Primrose’s voice is so calm. It sounds like silk.

The other woman rests her chin in her hands. “So… your name is Ophilia Clement, yes? You can just nod if you are.”

Ophilia nods, slowly. Perhaps Primrose was the one to mention it.

The woman smiles “Aah, _très merveilleux_ ! _Je suis_ \-- ah, I am Magnolia Arch.”

Ophilia blinks. “Nnh… where.. is this?”

Primrose runs a hand through her hair, before she decides to take a seat next to Magnolia. “There’s not a simple way to answer that, but you are in the Planeswarden Headquarters.”

She takes note of Ophilia’s confused expression. “I… think we should wait until you’ve recovered more before we explain it.” She dips her head in Ophilia’s direction and tries to change the subject. “May we see how those burns on your chest are doing?”

Ophilia nods again, slower this time, and gently slides the bed covers down.

She is shocked at the sight, which only causes another pulse of pain to run through her.

Though her body seems to be covered in burns... the ones on her chest - near her heart - are a dark purple.

Primrose’s expression remains unchanged, but Magnolia sighs and takes one of Ophilia’s hands in her own. “We… have tried to heal as much of the burns as possible, but our medical facilities don’t seem to be enough… I’m sorry, we really did try.”

Ophilia tightens her grip on Magnolia’s hands in response. “I… Do not worry about that... But… Please tell me…” She shifts her gaze over to Primrose. “Please... tell me what happened.”

It’s now Primrose’s turn to sigh. “I’m not too sure, but… well, whoever it was that had the accurst flame had essentially begun to bring Galdera back into the world.”

Silence.

Primrose drops her gaze. “Galdera… had likely fully returned, because… there was nothing left of your world when we tried to go back to assess the situation.”

Magnolia notices the look in Ophilia’s eyes. Of confusion, mostly. “Ah… This Primrose is not the same one from the world you come from. There are almost endless versions of the world you know, but they all differ from each other.”

Ophilia’s brow furrows. “It’s… gone? My… ‘world’ is… gone?” It makes little sense, but perhaps she would understand better once she recovered.

A solemn nod from Primrose, and Ophilia finds herself averting her gaze.

Magnolia lets go of Ophilia’s hand, and stands up. “We should really let you rest. Please, take it easy. But… if you need anything just let us know. Ok?”

A pause, before Ophilia eventually nods.

She does not watch as they leave. Instead, she looks to the countless stars outside the window.

So much happened all at once. So much that was _her doing._ So much now taken from her.

The burns still throb with a dull pain.

But she feels as though her heart hurts more.

 

Oh Aelfric, let her be strong.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first entry of the Planeswarden Travellers AU! A sort-of crossover with Bravely with a number of creative liberties because we have basically no information about the Planeswardens at all! I say 'sort of' because really, I'm... pretty convinced their universes are closely related.  
> The moral of this one is never trust Mattias with anything ever.  
> The parts are not in a particular order, and will be uploaded as I finish them! Because I have no patience.................  
> (also uh. if you want to see the designs for them, they're all here - https://linkys-art.tumblr.com/post/178706249268/planeswarden-travellers)


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